Redux
by Bombshell1701
Summary: Steve can forgive, but he can't forget. Post-Captain America/pre-Avengers. Rated T for angst. Author's note at the end. Please R&R.


**Redux**

At first it had irked him whenever he saw the auburn-headed woman; and then he realised he was being stupid. She was a SHIELD agent, and she'd just been doing her job. It probably hadn't been her idea to lie to him, to try to trick him.

Still, couldn't bring himself to give her anything more than the curtest of nods when he saw her at the gym. He was there at odd times, and she often was too; which made him wonder if she worked hellish hours, or, like him, she could find no comfort in sleep.

He doubted she suffered the same kind of dreams he did.

He destroyed yet another punching bag, and stood staring at it for a moment, shaking his head.

"That's a hell of a jab you've got, sir." A feminine voice said.

Steve started slightly, and glanced over his shoulder. She was wrapping her hands carefully in her boxing wraps, a small smile on her face, but her expression casual. He recognised that look: she didn't want to startle such a flighty creature as _The Man Out Of Time_. That was what they called him behind his back.

He shrugged. "Thanks." He said. "I've seen you work on the bag. You kick like a mule."

Had he really said that? Yep. Well, some things never change…

But she gave a genuine laugh, warm and familiar, and didn't seem at all insulted. "I wish I could pack a punch like you, but yeah… my strength is in my legs." She pulled on her sparring mits, and started to warm up.

"Well, at least you know your strengths" he said casually, hooking up another bag. He began to work it over, holding back a little so he wouldn't wreck it so quickly. They boxed next to each other in amiable silence for several minutes.

"I'm Sharon" she said suddenly.

Steve stopped and looked at her. Her eyes were dark, and there was something comforting in her expression. He took a step over, and bumped his fist gently against her glove, in lieu of a handshake. "Steve" he responded.

They each went back to the bags, and for several minutes the only noise in the room was the thud of fists.

Suddenly she stopped, and stared at her punching bag as it rocked silently back and forth.

"I'm sorry. About that ruse I tried to pull on you, the first time we, uh, met. It was pathetic."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it," he said casually, but his body betrayed his speech as he slammed his fists into the bag in a tight combination.

"No-one knew how to tell you-"

"I'd rather we didn't talk about it." He said, stopping his workout. His punching bag swung on a wide, wild arc. He stared straight ahead, ignoring the way she was staring at him. "That wasn't exactly the best day of my life. I'd like to just forget it, and move on. I'm here now, not much I can do about it." He resumed laying into the bag, and she let the conversation drop, starting up again on her own bag. They worked in cool silence after that, pointedly ignoring each other.

Steve slammed another bag to the ground. With a sigh he paced away and began unwrapping his hands. Sharon kept her eyes on her bag.

Steve threw his wraps into his sports bag, and sighed. He paced back and forth for a moment.

"I know, Sharon. I understand. So just… no hard feelings, okay?" He stood with his hands on his hips and looked at her. Her hands dropped, and slowly she turned to look at him.

"I know you're probably already sick of hearing this, but everything I've ever heard about you is true. You're the real deal, Steve." She held his eyes for a moment, then turned self-consciously back to her bag and began giving it hell.

Steve almost smiled; He picked up a broom and swept up the sand that had accumulated on the floor from today's round of burst punching bags. He looked up at a man who had just walked in. He was wearing a suit and walked with purpose. Steve stopped and stood up straight, but the man ignored him and walked up to Sharon.

"Fury needs to see you. ASAP."

"What have I done wrong, now?" Sharon asked, brusquely.

"Nothing. He just needs you on an assignment. Something urgent that requires your particular expertise."

"Fair enough. I guess I'll hit the shower. Tell Fury I'll be there in twenty."

"Thank you, Agent Carter." The man said.

Sharon's back stiffened, and she glanced over her shoulder at Steve. He'd heard the entire conversation, and stood rooted to the spot, staring at her.

_Carter?_

His gaze bored into the back of her head as she unwrapped her hands. She avoided his eyes as she stuffed her gear back into her gym bag, her face flushing with unease. She chanced a look at him as she swung her bag onto her shoulder. He was still staring, his body tense, his expression unreadable.

_Carter._

He'd been stupid not to see it before: The dark eyes, the shape of her face, the façade of toughness that masked a kind heart. He didn't know where she fit in, but once again he felt like she'd played him for a fool.

Sharon attempted a nod as she rushed off, but managed only a stiff jerk of her head. She couldn't meet the man's eyes- she didn't know what she would see if she looked too closely.

"Have a good night, _Agent Carter_" he said quietly.

She dared to look at him, just for a moment before escaping through the door. His face was unreadable, but his eyes couldn't mask his shock as he stared at her as if he were seeing a ghost.

Author's note: It was speculated around these here Internets that the woman who Steve sees when he first wakes up is supposed to be Sharon Carter, Peggy's niece and Steve's future love-interest (etc) in the comics. The character isn't credited that way in the film, so... who knows? But I decided to take that and run with it. I hope you enjoyed the angst! Once again, I own none of these lovely characters and get nothing but a strange kind of satisfaction from writing these stories. And again, many thanks to my beta, Voiceofdisbelief.


End file.
